


Killed the Cat

by cathybites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:12:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/pseuds/cathybites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He'd wanted to know what Dean was up to, so he'd tip-toed back to their room and had gotten one glimpse before the door shut.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Killed the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Guess the Author challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gleeweek/34132.html?style=mine) at [](http://spn-gleeweek.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_gleeweek**](http://spn-gleeweek.livejournal.com/). mucho kudos to [](http://girlmostlikely.livejournal.com/profile)[**girlmostlikely**](http://girlmostlikely.livejournal.com/) for running another fantastic gleeweek. fic is set pre-series.

It's his own damn fault, he thinks. He'd wanted to know what Dean was up to, so he'd tip-toed back to their room and had gotten one glimpse before the door shut.

His first instinct is to kick open the door to the room. Just burst in and haul the guy off Dean. Pick him up and throw him out of the apartment and tell him to never come back. His muscles tense, adrenaline zapping through his veins like lightning, and he pushes off the wall, taking a deep breath before going in to take care of business.

That's when Dean moans. Not the quiet breathy ones that Sam's gotten used to - maybe too used to - over the years, and not the bitten-off ones that he usually hears from behind the bathroom door. This one starts off deep and loud, startling in its intensity, and it ends with a hitching gasp. Sam's never heard it before, but he gets the full-color image in his head of what Dean must look like at that moment. Long legs spread wide, feet kicking out against the floor, head thrown back as the guy swallows him down.

Sees it perfectly because it's too close to what he's been trying to beat out of his head for the past year.

The murmur of voices comes through the wall, followed by low laughter. Rustling movement, and Sam leans against the wall, head turning until cool plaster is against his heated skin. All he can hear for a long moment is the double-time beating of his own heart. He bites his lip, presses his hands to the wall, waits.

And there's the creak of the bed, followed by another. Unsteady rhythm, and Sam clenches his fist in time to it, fingers digging into his palm. He can hear the guy say something and Dean's answering laugh, followed by another moan. Sam swears, eyes squeezing shut before he drops to his knees and shuffles forward to peek into the keyhole.

There's not much to see - a bedpost, a glimpse of the nightstand, flashes of skin - but it's enough. Sam rests his hands on his thighs, feels them flex under his fingers, and before he can think about it, he has his pants open and one hand shoved into his shorts, pulling at his dick, the other braced against the door.

Too dry and a little too rough, and he pauses to lick at his hand. Thinks about Dean doing it instead, filthy pink tongue working its way around Sam's fingers, and his dick jerks at the thought. He wraps his hand around himself again, takes it slower, lets himself go with it.

Listens to the nonstop moans from the bedroom and imagines that he's in there with Dean instead. Dean who wouldn't go gentle with him, would wrap his hand tighter, thumb stroking over the tip. _Like that, Sammy?_ he'd say, and Sam whimpers. Pictures Dean's grin before it slides down around Sam's dick. Or watching it flash over Dean's shoulder as he bends forward, ass high in the air.

There's a faint knocking sound coming from the bedroom now, and Sam bites down on his moan, jacking off more quickly. Can't make out the words, but he can hear Dean's voice, demanding, and he wonders if Dean would be the same with him. Wonders if Dean would say, _Harder, Sam, more_ , or if he'd want it slower, want to take his time. Wonders if Dean would be able to say anything at all, if Sam could drive all the words out of him.

His hand slips on the door and he falls forward, barely catching himself. He's worried for a second that the sound would travel into the bedroom, that Dean will come out and find him - and part of him aches for that to happen. But there's another loud groan, another slam of the headboard against the wall, and everything tenses inside of him, hanging for a second before releasing. He comes all over the door, gasping for air, Dean's grin on his mind.


End file.
